


Let slip the dogs of war

by amberfox17



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Loki in chains, M/M, Mages, Master/Slave, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberfox17/pseuds/amberfox17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Loki is too far gone, and barely seems able to hear him. The air hums with the charge of his seidr, bottling up inside him, unable to escape so long as he is bound within the enchanted cuffs, and the beast in him is still battle-hungry and furious. He requires release, and since he is not safe to be set free, Thor has only one other kind to offer him.</i><br/>Thor/Loki PWP, in a world where mages must be kept chained and their magic bound: Loki is Thor’s dog of war, unleashed only in the most terrible of battles, and now Thor must deal with the aftermath of setting Loki’s seidr loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let slip the dogs of war

**Let slip the dogs of war**

Mjolnir slams back into Thor’s hand and he whirls, looking for the next, looking for anyone foolish enough to stand against him, heart pounding, blood-lust singing –

But there is none, and he lets Mjolnir hang slack in his hand as he gulps in great shuddering breaths of smoke-tainted air. All around him lie the wounded and the bodies of the fallen, but none rise, none cry out against him, and he exhales raggedly before pushing his hair from his face. The battle is over.

Yet in the distance he can still hear cries and snarls and within moments a cry goes up from closer at hand.

“My Lord!” It is Röskva, one of his Captains, and the look of fear on her face tells Thor all he needs to know.

“Where is he?” Thor asks urgently and follows her as she swiftly leads him through the forest and into a ragged, scorched clearing that had not been here an hour ago. Sif and the Warriors Three are already here, maintaining a defensive perimeter with a small contingent, and they turn to Thor with undisguised relief.

“The battle is won,” Thor tells them, forcing a confident smile. “Return to camp and toast our victory. I will deal with my wayward pet.”

The soldiers are all too eager to leave, but Sif and his friends do not move. He is grateful for their loyalty and bravery, but in truth this would be easier without them, for at this moment they are just another target.

Loki stands amidst a sea of charred flesh, hands moving jerkily, mouth twisted, green light flickering around him, casting a greasy sheen over his armour and a sickly wash across his face. He seems completely unaware of Thor or the others, eyes blank and unfocused, and even from a distance Thor can hear him growling, a rough, discordant sound that grates across the nerves of the listeners.

Thor had released him from his chains as a last resort, giving him back his seidr for the sole aim of turning it against their enemy. This Loki had done, all too gladly, and Thor had fought for a time at his side, their laughter mingling as the foe fell before them like wheat before the scythe. All too soon the press of battle had separated them and he had lost himself in the thrill of the fight; but whereas he had come back to himself once all were dead, Loki has not, and he lingers still in the savagery of his bloodlust, his reason overwhelmed by the raw power of the tainted forces he wields.

 It is not natural for a mage to be bound, for his seidr to be stifled, and it is well known that those kept too long without release will die of the build-up. Yet when finally permitted to wield their magic after a period of confinement, they all too easily fall into a berserker state, the pent up forces reducing them to mindless, animalistic creatures even more dangerous than before. The more powerful the mage, the harder they fall, and Loki is the greatest magic-user in over a century, his mixed Aesir and Jötunn blood giving him a power none have ever seen the like of. Many have called for his death, calling him a mad dog, unpredictable and untameable, but Thor will not have it.

 No-one will approach Loki without his cuffs, for in this state, he will kill any who come too close to him, and who can tell what distance is safe when he has just routed an entire army with only words and his hands? No mage can be trusted unbound, least of all one known throughout the realms as Loki the Destroyer, the dog of war, the leveller of worlds. Loki is a monster, a menace, a blight on the House of Odin, and for all he is one of their greatest weapons, none will get closer to him than they must.

None, that is, but Thor, for Loki belongs to him.

 “You should not give him so much freedom,” Sif says, frowning. “He is too dangerous, Thor. If he were to break loose -”

“Only I may remove his collar,” Thor reminds her. “And so long as he wears it, he is bound to my side. He has never disobeyed my command in battle. He will come to heel once his fury is spent.”

“I do not think that one’s rage will ever be truly spent,” Sif mutters, but Thor chooses not to hear her. He understands well her distrust of the mage and her advice is wise, for if Loki were ever truly free, he could plunge the realms into war and death with little more than a word. Yet to Thor, he has ever been a most loyal pet and an even more formidable weapon, and Thor enjoys unleashing him just as much as he loves to call the lightning. But unlike Mjolnir, his favourite hound is not so easily returned to his hand.

Thor strides confidently across the battlefield, Mjolnir stowed at his hip. “Loki!” he shouts, and his hound turns, eyes narrowing as he focuses on Thor. “Loki, stand down!”

Loki raises his hands and Thor leaps high into the air to avoid the blast of searing flame that explodes between them. Loki follows the fire with wickedly sharp slivers of ice that shatter against Thor’s armour and that he must knock aside lest they strike his face. Sloppy, very sloppy, and this is something Thor is grateful for, for it means Loki is more tired than he looks and will therefore be easier to bring to heel.

Thor doesn’t try for anything fancy, and simply slams into Loki as he lands, using his superior size to knock Loki to the ground. That Loki is too slow to evade or defend himself simply proves Thor’s assessment of his exhaustion, and so Thor grapples with him without too much concern, wrestling with Loki’s clawed hands until he can pin him down, locking his legs around him and flattening him chest to chest.

“The cuffs!” he shouts and Sif is suddenly at his side, lips pursed in silent condemnation, but she hands them and Loki’s muzzle to Thor without hesitation, and he manages to take them from her without Loki wriggling free.

“Be still, Loki,” he pants. “Be calm.”

Loki snarls wordlessly at him in response and bucks in his grip, but he does not have Thor’s strength and so, after a brief struggle, Thor manages to close the heavy cuffs around his wrists and lock them to Loki’s collar, binding both his magic and his range of movement. Loki responds to this by attempting to headbutt Thor, and when this fails, manages to twist enough to sink his teeth into the meat of Thor’s hand. Thor curses and reaches for the muzzle.

Gagged, chained and leashed, Loki is finally safe enough to tow back to camp on a short lead, although he is no less ferocious in the restraints and does not come willingly, kicking and thrashing as Thor drags him towards his tent, screams muffled by the gag over his mouth but still clearly audible. The assembled warriors and camp followers watch warily, afraid of Loki even when bound and in Thor’s keeping.

It takes far too much effort to force Loki into the tent, which was not designed for securing so dangerous a captive. If Thor tied him to the support posts he would almost certainly bring them down and the tent with them, so he resorts to yet again pushing Loki to the floor, and once there he twists Loki’s chains around Mjolnir, using her as an anchor to keep Loki in place. Even so trapped Loki takes to kicking like a mule, and he is flexible enough to catch Thor on the jaw before he can back away. Thor rubs at his mouth and goes to fetch Loki’s leg restraints.

Thor endures further kicking as he fastens one cuff to Loki’s ankle, and ignores the muffled roars as he manhandles the other into position. There is a thick bar between the two cuffs which will keep Loki’s legs apart and so prevent him from lashing out; still, to be safe, Thor folds Loki’s legs as best he can, so Loki has to rely on his knees to hold himself up. At least now if he kicks he will flop to the ground.

Once he is done, Loki pulls and screams and jerks against the restraints, but he is completely secure. He is also on his hands and knees, head forced low by the collar and leash, his ass high in the air and knees spread wide, kept in place by the spreader bar.

Thor grips him by his hair and pulls his face up. “Cease your struggles,” he commands firmly, as Loki glares up at him, face inches from Mjolnir. “Control yourself.”

But Loki is too far gone, and barely seems able to hear him. The air hums with the charge of his seidr, bottling up inside him, unable to escape so long as he is bound within the enchanted cuffs, and the beast in him is still battle-hungry and furious. He requires release, and since he is not safe to be set free, Thor has only one other kind to offer him.

It is awkward indeed to remove Loki’s armour while he is in such a position, but Thor is well experienced in this, and swiftly manages to expose enough of Loki for his purposes. As expected, Loki’s flushed cock is hard and dripping, and when Thor reaches out to lay a hand on his bare ass, he finds Loki’s skin is burning and slick with sweat. As soon as Thor touches him, Loki’s screeches turn to a low moan, and he pushes back into Thor’s hand as far as he can.

Thor wonders, sometimes, if all those who own mages use this method of relieving their madness, or if it something unique to he and Loki. Certainly, it had not occurred to him until well after Loki had come to his bed with a wickedly tempting smile; before, he had simply tied Loki down and waited for exhaustion to overwhelm him. But it had been deeply unpleasant to watch Loki suffer, and he had been moved to hold him, to try and offer some comfort, to be a calming presence as Loki writhed through the aftermath of his battle-magic, only to find that his touch triggers an entirely different response.

“I am here,” he says softly, running his hands over Loki’s skin, from where his damp hair is curling, down along his spine and over his tensed thighs and calves. “The battle is over, Loki.”

Loki moans at his touch, starting low and then rising, a long, needy sound that tails off into a whimper. His body undulates as best it can within the tethers, Loki attempting to rock his hips forward and then back into Thor’s palm, chains clanking as he tries to spread his legs. He sobs and cries, the sounds muffled by the muzzle but still audible; it’s clearly not words, not yet, but it is a plea, and one Thor intends to answer.

“That’s better,” Thor tells him, sliding his palms across Loki’s hips and over his inner thighs. “Be a good boy, and I will ease your suffering,” he murmurs, keeping his hands moving over Loki’s sweat-slick skin, knowing from long experience that hearing his voice helps to ground Loki, helps to keep him here and not lost in the storm of his magic. “I am here with you. I can give you what you need.”

His hand dips between Loki’s legs, blunt fingers skimming lightly over the crease of his ass and up along the smooth skin of his perineum and brushing lightly over his balls. Loki whines behind the muzzle and jerks back, but he is too tightly tethered and succeeds only in rattling the iron links of the chains.

“Good boy,” Thor says, “that’s my good boy,” and Loki’s whine deepens as Thor’s hand slides over his cock, rock hard and slick with pre-come and the sweat dripping from Loki’s body. It’s a little awkward for Thor, as he is crouched over Loki’s bent body, but he tightens his grip on Loki’s wet cock and begins to stroke him, setting a quick, simple rhythm and rubbing his thumb over the head on each pass. Basic, yes, but effective, for the overwrought Loki shakes under him, garbled cries rising in pitch as Thor strokes faster and faster until Loki’s entire body bucks and he comes, seed spilling over Thor’s first and staining the rug beneath him.

Loki slumps, breath rasping as he struggles to inhale around the muzzle, but as Thor withdraws his hand and wipes it clean, he notes that Loki is still hard and his body still tense. He has used too much of his magic today, fallen too far into battlelust to be so easily satisfied.

Thor does not mind. This first orgasm is only to take some of the fight out of Loki, to turn his rage to desire and have him a little more pliable under Thor’s hands. Loki is still hungry, still desperate, but now what remains of his thoughts are turned to pleasure, not death, and this is all Thor needs from him.

He moves round and again lifts Loki’s face. “Loki?” he asks, but he is met with a blank stare, pupils blown wide. Slowly, carefully, Thor reaches to remove the muzzle, always watchful of Loki’s teeth near the fragile skin of his wrists. But though Loki’s glazed eyes track the movement of his hands, he makes no move to bite, and once the muzzle is off, only licks his lips and moans, rolling his hips against the empty air.

He _seems_ less dangerous now, but Thor has been fooled by him in this state before, and has the scars to prove it. The chains and cuffs will stay on until Thor is sure Loki will not try to harm him.

Even as Thor thinks this, Loki’s back arches and he throws his weight forward, almost slamming into the startled Thor as he scrambles away. Loki bares his teeth and snarls, harmless sparks of witchfire flaring from his fingers and being earthed by the heavy manacles as he tries to free himself. That he seems more interested in bringing his hands to his cock than wrapping them around Thor’s throat is small consolation; he is unpredictable and still violent, and Thor will have to do more to subdue him.

Thor has an entire chest full of oils and salves and restraints, for bringing a mage to war requires a great deal of after-battle management. He chooses one of the fuller bottles and pours out a generous amount into a deep bowl: he will not want to be fiddling around for much longer. He also brings a pitcher of water; Loki will not drink from it, tossing his head and growling when Thor tries to make him swallow, but it will also be needed and Thor places within reach but where it shouldn’t be knocked over.

Preparations made, Thor carefully kneels between Loki’s legs, mindful of the spreader bar but not inclined to remove it yet. “Loki, be still,” he says firmly as he grasps the pert globes of Loki’s ass and spreads them wide. He coats his fingers in the sweet-smelling oil, and rubs the pad of his thumb over Loki’s twitching hole; Loki again pushes back into his touch, but he shifts and pulls on his chains and will not be still.

Thor sits back and up on his heels, arching over Loki so he can place the flat of his hand between Loki’s shoulderblades, pushing his upper body down. “Stay. Still,” Thor growls, putting some force into his tone, and Loki snarls but complies. Thor rewards him by pushing his thumb slowly into his waiting hole. Loki is tense and tight, but he moans in pleasure and Thor trusts he has made his point.

He opens Loki up as slowly as he can, well aware of how Loki shudders with every finger he adds, of how a greasy flare of green seidr slides over Loki’s skin, drawn swiftly away to the enchanted cuffs, but proof positive of how much magic is bottled up within Loki’s straining body. Loki must have release, and so Thor twists his thick fingers inside Loki’s hot, clinging flesh, seeking out his prostate, and the moment he does Loki shrieks and slams back – or at least tries to, as Mjolnir refuses to move so much as an inch and so Loki does little better.

Thor chuckles and begin to finger him in earnest, pumping his fingers in and out of Loki’s ass, drizzling more oil along his crease and over his hands, stroking over the sweet spot inside with every thrust. Loki’s head drops between his arms, the curve of his spine one long line down from where his ass is raised high, and his moans become louder and louder, thighs shaking with effort, but he cannot come, not quite, and Thor knows it. He builds him up mercilessly, until his entire body is quivering and his breath is rasping in his throat, the air around him thick with the haze of suppressed magic and then, and only then, does Thor slide his free hand back over his heavy balls and along his sopping shaft. He has barely closed his fist around the dripping head before Loki is pushing into it, fucking himself back onto Thor’s fingers and forward into his hand, and within seconds the moan becomes a scream and Loki comes again, his come spurting from between Thor’s fingers to slide down his chest.

Still, Loki remains hard, and mere moments after crying out his orgasm he is pushing against Thor again, still rutting into his hand. Thor can take no more, and despite Loki’s whining, releases his cock and wipes his messy hand carelessly against Loki’s back. He removes his fingers from Loki’s ass and hastily strips, washing his hands only to coat them again in oil, and smears more slick over his own throbbing cock.

“Loki,” he says as he lines up, letting the head of his fat cock bump against Loki’s stretched hole, “Loki, let me -”

But Loki is not listening, and still cares nothing for Thor’s words, and he arches as best as he can, trying desperately to impale himself on Thor’s cock. How can Thor ignore such a plea?

Loki exhales raggedly as Thor pushes in, and Thor fancies he can hear the faint hum of Loki’s magic increasing as Loki’s body struggles to accept him, his cock so much longer and thicker than his fingers. He curves over Loki’s bowed back, shuffling his knees forward and forcing Loki to bend a little more, so he can press a sloppy kiss to the nape of his neck, lick at the sweat pooled there and listen to Loki whimper in response.

“Good boy,” he says again, the words all but meaningless from so much repetition, but Loki gives a low grunt at the sound of his voice and so Thor keeps saying it as he grinds against Loki, working ever deeper until he bottoms out, until Loki relaxes enough that he can start to move properly, pulling back just enough that he can thrust forward, loving the drag of his cock inside Loki’s tight channel. “Good boy.”

Loki growls and Thor takes this for encouragement; he begins to fuck him relentlessly, pounding in and out as hard and as fast as he can, and Loki yelps and moans, hands clawing at the rug beneath them, head bent low and holding himself rigidly still as Thor fucks into him. Adrenalin from the battle still sings in his own veins, and he does not even try to hold back; instead, he slams into Loki brutally hard, and Loki howls for him, clenching tightly around Thor’s cock. He still has one hand on Loki’s stiff cock, and each powerful thrust pushes it through his fist, and he can feel it leaping within his grasp as Loki climbs closer towards his climax.

Thor cannot wait for him though, not with his own orgasm licking along his spine, coiling in his balls and shuddering along his body and he pours himself into Loki with a shout, hips stuttering as he rams home. Loki whines helplessly as he pauses, slumping over Loki’s back, and grinds in Thor’s hand as best as he can until Thor catches his breath and finishes stroking him to a third orgasm, grunting as Loki’s body clenches around his own softening cock.

Thor pulls out and takes a quick moment to check Loki over: the greasy sheen of magic seems to have dissipated for the moment, and though Loki’s hole is spasming weakly as seed and oil trickles out, he is not in any particular discomfort. Thor loosens the ankle cuffs and spreader bar and removes them, rubbing Loki’s ankles as he does so. He moves round to Loki’s front and removes Mjolnir too, helping Loki to a more comfortable sitting position. Loki’s hands are still bound and chained to his collar, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and he sits quite still, if not exactly calm, chest heaving and shining with sweat. Thor quickly fetches the pitcher of water and a goblet, and after draining half of it himself, helps Loki to grip it so he can drink.

Loki gulps at the water, spilling as much over his chin and chest as he swallows, and the goblet is empty in moments. He stares hungrily at Thor, with some dim glimmer of recognition, but when Thor once again tries to speak to him he is met with blank indifference. Thor drops his gaze to Loki’s crotch and sure enough, despite Thor’s efforts, he is still hard, and the tell-tale hum of bottled seidr is building again, leaving a strange resonance in the air and a faint tang on Thor’s tongue.

The goblet falls to the side as Loki drops it, bouncing across the floor with a clang, but Loki pays it no mind: he is already crawling towards Thor, an act made difficult by the thick chain linking his handcuffs to his collar, but he is determined to close with Thor, and struggles into his lap as best he can. Thor welcomes him, spreading his legs so Loki can sit atop them, letting his rapidly hardening cock slide between his soaked ass cheeks and rub over Loki’s wet hole. He tries to kiss Loki’s mouth, but Loki is not interested in his affection and the kiss glances off, slides over Loki’s cheekbones and into his hair as Loki pushes his face into the crook of Thor’s neck.

“Mmm,” he pants as he grinds himself against Thor’s defined abdomen, his broken sounds coming closer to words but still not anything like coherence. “Mmm – ah!” and this last is at the feel of Thor’s hands slipping under his buttocks, spreading them wide so he can probe at Loki’s hole. He’s still stretched and slick with the mess of their first coupling, and so Thor lifts him bodily and settles him over his renewed erection.

Loki mewls something that might be a yes, and so Thor lets him go, lets him sink down onto his cock, feeling Loki’s whole body shake as he is breached again in this new position. Loki tosses his head back and meets Thor’s gaze at last, wide-eyed and beautiful, biting his lip as he grinds down onto Thor, fingers scrabbling at his chest.

“Loki,” Thor breathes, but Loki’s eyes close and the muscles in his legs bunch as he begins to ride Thor, lifting himself up and then dropping down on to Thor’s fat cock in jerky, uncoordinated movements, using Thor’s body for his own pleasure. Thor lets him do it, simply places his own palms flat on the ground and leans back a little, so he is secure and stable and Loki can move as he pleases.

Loki’s body is battered and bruised from battle, and he must be tiring, but he flexes and arches as he fucks himself on Thor’s cock, finding a smooth, rolling rhythm that has his own sticky cock bouncing every time he slams back down into Thor’s lap. Thor admires him, longing to lap at the exposed line of his throat as he tosses his head and moans, but he holds himself still, lets Loki work out his tension in his own way. Green light still flares at Loki’s fingertips as he impales himself, over and over, but it is fainter and flickering, a brief spark that is soon swallowed by the cuffs where they rest against Thor’s chest, and this is a good sign.

Thor waits until Loki’s mouth is hanging open, until he is bucking on his lap, movements sloppy and fast, his cock all but crimson, and then he reaches out to close a hand over the head, smearing the clear slick over the head and along the shaft, and Loki cries out at the added stimulation, eyes flying open and gaze fixing on Thor. He’s close, and there’s both familiarity and desperation in his eyes, and Thor smiles at him as he jerks him over the edge, as Loki spends over him and falls forward, slumping against Thor’s filthy chest.

“More,” Loki slurs, the word stretched out almost beyond recognition: “Mooo-ooore.” He grinds against Thor, hips working in tiny circles, but though his thighs tense and his body strains, he no longer has the strength to lift himself up and down on Thor’s cock. “More,” he sobs into the meat of Thor’s shoulder, rasping his tongue wetly over his collarbone, and Thor moves to obey.

“Be still,” Thor says, the words falling unheeded from his lips as he gently unhooks the chain binding Loki’s hands to his collar, so he can lift them over Loki’s head with one hand while the other flattens against Loki’s back. “I have you,” he says as he tilts forward, laying Loki down, placing Loki’s cuffed hands above his head, moving slowly as he repositions them so that his cock will not slip from Loki’s loose and dripping hole.

“Ah,” Loki pants once he is flat on his back, “ah, ah!”

“I know, I know,” Thor says, unable to repress a smile as he pushes in a little deeper and Loki’s head thuds against the floor, eyes rolling back. “That’s it,” he says as he pulls back, drawing his cock from Loki until only the tip remains, loving how Loki’s exhausted thighs still flex against him as he tries to fight the withdrawal, how his body tries to clamp down on Thor’s cock as he drags it out.

“Ngh,” Loki mewls, ankles locked tight against Thor’s back and Thor cannot bear to tease him further; he slams back in with a grunt and Loki howls as he is filled again, slaps and lewd squelches filling the air as Thor fucks in.

“Yessss,” he slurs, “Mhmm, yess, more -” and Thor gives it to him, grabbing him by the hips so he can fuck him hard, have him feel it, conscious of the wet slide of his cock through his own seed inside Loki’s body. Loki writhes beneath him, his own cock weakly pulsing clear, shining pre-come onto his taut stomach, the thick head flushed almost purple. He’s tiring at last, and though at first he attempts to push back against Thor, as Thor continues to fuck him exhaustion steals over him and soon he can only lie there and take it, gasping and whimpering with every stroke.

Thor shifts his weight and braces himself with one hand so he can grip Loki’s cock with the other, and match his strokes to the push and pull of his fucking. Loki cries out, still a hopeless mess of broken words and liquid sound, and Thor works him steadily, inexorably towards another climax, watching how every muscle tenses, tendons flexing and veins pulsing, so close and struggling so hard to get there. Loki’s body shines with sweat and the scent mingles with musk and seed and oil and leather, making the tent reek like a damn brothel; surely, this must be Loki’s last climax, for his body is nearly wrung dry, chest, throat and face stained red with exertion, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Thor,” Loki says suddenly, the word mangled and raw, but unmistakeably his name: “Thor. Thor!” and as he sobs the last syllable he bucks, weakly, and comes, a bare trickle of seed spurting weakly from his cock.

At last.

Thor leans further forward, changes his angle, and watches carefully: Loki’s mouth opens in a perfect ‘o’ as he drags over his prostate, breath catching sharply, but that’s all he can manage, and there’s not so much as a flicker of magic anywhere on his skin.

At last, he is sated.

Thor sighs and bends to kiss Loki’s damp forehead. Loki is limp and worn out beneath him, and so, despite his own aching need, he withdraws, easing his cock from Loki’s abused flesh. He takes his own cock in hand, heedless of the mess, and jerks himself fast, groaning as his own orgasm builds, looking down at Loki, flushed, exhausted and totally fucked out, covered in sweat and seed, a filthy mess from head to toe, with Thor’s come and the oil trickling from his ass, used and owned and helpless.

“Loki,” Thor groans and his own pleasure mounts and mounts until it breaks, as he pushes into his own tightly clenched fist and comes, climax washing over him like a wave as he adds his own creamy ropes of come to the sticky mess covering Loki’s stomach and chest.

Loki blinks up at him, dazed but unafraid.

“There’s my good boy,” Thor says, smiling fondly. “Welcome back.”

“Thor,” Loki sighs, and he stretches slowly as Thor cleans them up, ruining three good cloths in the process. Once that is done, the handcuffs must stay on, but Thor unclips the chain and pulls it free, so that Loki once again has free movement of his hands, and gently helps him drink again from the nearby goblet.

“You did well today,” Thor tells him and Loki murmurs something that might be agreement, languid and lazy and on the verge of falling asleep. Thor picks him up easily and carries him to their bed for some well-earned rest and Loki nuzzles sleepily against his cheek.

This is a side of Loki none but Thor ever see, and while he is thrilled at the intimacy, it sorrows him that the world entire sees nothing more than a chained monster kept leashed at his side. Loki is more than his pet, more than a weapon under Thor’s control: Thor loves him, and cherishes his company in a way that none, not even Sif and his friends, can understand.

Thor is certain that if Loki was released from his bondage, and allowed to manage his own magic, he would no longer fall prey to these fits of madness; what he is no so certain of is whether a freed Loki would remain at his side or flee into the wild worlds beyond Asgard’s reach. He cannot bear the thought of losing him, and yet with each passing day his sense of the wrongness of Loki’s captivity grows.

But these are thoughts for another day. Thor aches and wants nothing more than to sleep; Loki must be in an even worse state, and is already half-asleep even as Thor lays him down in the plush furs of their bed and snuggles in close to him.

“Thank you for letting me loose,” Loki murmurs, and in his exhaustion for once there is no bitterness, no undercurrent to his words.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” Thor whispers against Loki’s skin as his eyes flutter shut, a prayer and a hope for their future.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the super unoriginal title! The idea of mages as dangerous and needing to be controlled loosely inspired by Dragon Age; the chains and muzzle are all Marvel's fault. So this is my contribution to chained Loki in fandom - I started way back in October and have only just finished it, oops. With many many thanks to marty-mc & takemetothedungeons for looking an early draft over, sorry it took me so long to write the rest…


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